


In Which You Need Him More Than Apple Juice

by bearscp



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Crossdressing, Daddy Kink, Dave kind of has PTSD maybe a bit, Dorks in love p much, Facials, Fluff, Frottage, Happy, Humiliation, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Masturbation, Orgasm Denial, Post-Sburb, Somnophilia, Spanking, bit of sadstuck tho tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-30
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-03 00:47:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1063679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bearscp/pseuds/bearscp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You love the way he holds you close to him, you love his natural scent of metal, sweat, oranges, and coffee, you love when he loses himself in you, and you love how much he can't get enough of you. </p><p>You hate it when you wake up with wet boxers and half a boner pressed into your mattress.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pastel Dresses and Masturbation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave pretty much loses his shit over a kinky "dream."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dave is almost sixteen (tbh you can kind of imagine whatever you want I always think he's like 19 when I write this shit), Bro is somewhere around late twenties, early thirties, and has a slight Texan accent  
> Not set in their actual apartment. More like a penthouse with all the fixings of the real one and more, separate rooms.
> 
> At one point in the fic there's some blood/gore to do w PTSD and remembered SBURB but it's not super explicit just a heads up. 
> 
> Everything in this fic is consensual.

It wasn’t that you wanted to, no, it couldn’t be that. There was no fucking way you’d ever want to do that.

And yet here you are. Admiring yourself in front of a full body mirror. Eyes gliding over the pastel pink ruffles covered in a partly crumpled white apron. Fingers raking through the frilly layers underneath in an attempt to straighten them out. The headband slipping forwards ever so slightly, covering more of your pale blond bangs. Small pink cat ears drooping low under the weight of the bells. Apron-matching thigh-highs covering just what they’re described to.

Nah, there was no way a Strider would ever wear something as fuck ridiculous as this, or want to, unless it was for the sheer irony of the typical fujoshi fantasy. Yeah, that was it. That’s why Bro told you to put it on. That’s why he spent way too much money on the entirety of the outfit. That’s why your stomach ollies over itself as you move towards the handle of your door.

You stop breathing when you see Bro, arms crossed, leaning back on the wall across from where you stand.

He scoffs, and you hate how you know he can read your expression past the shades and yet you can’t read his.

“I can’t believe ya actually put that on.” Bro grins his grin that makes you feel stupid and worthless, even though it was his idea to put all this on.

“I think I look damn good in it, actually.” You stare him down, keeping a straight face.

His grin falters for a fraction of a second into a line before it turns into a smirk. “Couldn’t agree more.”

You feel your face heat up from the embarrassment that is wearing this fucking outfit.

“Whatever.”

“Come here.” Bro reaches a hand out towards you.

You look up and down, between the fingerless gloves and the tinted anime glasses, before cautiously putting your hand in his.

He whips you in close to his body, your knee slides between his legs even in the dress, you hear your heart beat erratically, know your palm must be sweating where he’s holding it to his chest, smell his natural scent of metal, sweat, oranges, and coffee.

Bro rests his chin on your head. You hate how much taller he is than you. When you’re older you’re going to make sure you sprout up. Though if anything Bro would probably deny you like milk or some shit if he thought it’d make you taller than him, or just have Cal in the fridge, meaning you’d have to go to the apple juice archives currently hidden behind a panel in your closet. Maybe you’ll go there when you’re done with whatever the fuck is happening here. Bro starts to move, interrupting your stupid thoughts.

He rests his hand that's not gripping your wrist on your upper back, slowly lowering it as he feels the fabric until it gets to the seams along the skirt. He pushes you with it closer to him until there’s not enough room to move if you were so inclined. The position forces your face directly into his chest just as he hoists his leg up so you're riding it and his foot rests flat on the wall. Your glasses almost uncomfortably press against the bridge of your nose.

Instinctively you bury your nose into his white polo, inhaling deeply, and releasing it with a shuddering breath. His hand yet again reaches further down, balancing your precarious pose and squeezing your ass. He moves from your wrist to lay your hand on his shoulder, fingers tightening once you get there, and you move the other to do the same on his opposite shoulder.

You’re not sure what’s happening, but you tremble, a force moving closer to your nether regions; blood throbbing as it boils down below; shivers racking your tailbone and thighs.

The dress starts making ruffling sounds before you realize Bro has both of his hands now planted on your ass as he slides you up and down his leg with a small rut against your knee at every upstroke. You feel his erection when you finally notice yours poking up slightly under the weighted frills.

His breath hitches and he speeds up, smacking the back of his head against the wall when he takes it away from yours. Confused at Bro seeming to actually lose his cool, you turn your head to look up, already missing the heat that covered your burning cheeks.

Bro’s eyes are clenched shut from what you can see up under his shades. Droplets of sweat slip down his temples and sideburns to splash on your hair. His lips tighten every time you reach the top of his leg, and every few strokes his tongue flicks out to wet them. Face flushed pink along with the tips of his ears and his nose. You know you both have that in common right now.

You’re still acutely aware of what you’ve got going downstairs, but it’s weird seeing Bro like this. So unguarded, pleasured, expressing, and just so _different_. It’s not a bad thing, you’re just worried you won’t be able to see more of this. That he’s going to realize what’s happening. That he’s not all there right now and he doesn’t know what he’s doing and won’t do it ever again.

You never knew this was something you wanted, but now that you’ve had a taste of it, you want all of it and more.

Somehow Bro senses your eyes still trained on his face, but you realize he's just using his mad ninja skills again. He flicks his lids open and tilts his head so even less of his eyes are visible, but you can still see the fear in them, and the knitting of his brows only clarifies it. He doesn’t stop his movements, only slows down. It’s like he wants conformation from you that what he’s doing is okay.

You nod, pulling yourself up by his shoulders and breathing on his mouth until he parts it ever so slightly. Both of your glasses fog from the steam. Bro lifts you to straddle his waist, and you cross your arms behind his neck before you go in for a deep kiss. In response he starts frotting up against you, your clothed dicks rubbing together in the heat under your skirt.

Your shades clack when his tongue flits into your mouth, licking the ridges of the roof and the buds on your own pink organ. You twist them together, feeling the way your lips move together, hearing the wet sounds, stifled moans, and fabric against fabric.

A burning sensation starts in your stomach and heads closer and closer to your cock. You know what’s next. You’d ‘accidentally’ stumbled along enough porn and fan fictions to know what happened when you felt that way. While you’d jerked it enough times to those, you’d never felt that one feeling yourself.

But holy fucking Doc it was great.

You would like to warn Bro, but you just can’t let yourself part from his mouth for a second. Instead you moan loader, groaning, and his hips stutter on yours. You hope he gets the message.

Panting inside of his open lips is a given now, you couldn’t even stop yourself if you wanted to.

He grinds you against him harder, pushing himself onto you and as much as you try you can’t help thinking ‘Gotta Go Fast!’ while inwardly snickering. For a moment you remember that time Bro let you stay up all night to play Sonic the Hedgehog 3 with him when you said you’d never played before. He’d been better than you, and half the time you’d not even be on screen since he would speed through the level, but it was worth it. You’d had fun that night, and strifed over who got to be Player 1 initially, wrestling after you completed the first couple Acts of the game.

Back then that stuff would happen a lot, but when you turned twelve, your duo started to drift apart. You didn’t know why, and the only thing you could think of was that he’d seen you looking him up and down or heard you whispering his name in the middle of the night as your hand worked itself raw under your blankets or maybe he’d noticed how you’d always let him pin you quickly in a strife when you only started caring about feeling his body half naked atop yours.

It’d only been a little under four years since then, and the two of you had rarely had any time that was just brotherly bonding. In fact, you can’t remember why you put on the dress, whether it was fueled by how you felt about him or not. Now that you think of it, you don’t even remember Bro handing you it, or telling you to put it on, or actually pulling it on.

You feel dizzy, cursing aloud as your stomach gives and you start to fall.

Bro’s panting, his sweat, his sweet smell, and his dick against yours slowly disappear and you fall out of your bed flat onto your face.

“…fuck…” You mumble into the carpet.

“Fuck.” You angrily say as you push yourself up onto your elbows.

“FUCK.” You yell pounding your fist into the floor.

Your room is dark, and a quick glance at the alarm with your shades on top you it’s only a little past one in the morning.

Rolling onto your back when you notice the pain in your crotch from being pushed against the floor, you snake a hand underneath your red-stripy boxers and tug dutifully at your hard-on.

“Fuck…” You whisper to yourself, the dream still vivid in your mind. It felt so real this time, so fucking real, why couldn’t it be real?

Your gut clenches with guilt but you keep fisting yourself, beginning to buck up into your hand with force.

You think of yourself in that dress, rutting against Bro, his erection hot and tight against yours.

Finally you realize you just don’t care anymore what would happen, or what the consequences would be of your actions, and you stop rubbing your dick. You stand on wobbly legs and quietly swing open your door.

Padding down the hall you arrive at Bro’s room. Gently you nudge his door open, and he’s out like a light in his bed, head facing towards you. Carefully stepping forward until you’re in front of his face, you push down your boxers until your erection is out in the cold. At this angle it almost looks like it’s touching his lips, and you can’t help but lean closer to him.

 Bro’s eyes are closed softly, lashes fluttering against his cheekbones. His mouth is open, and his breath comes out in hot waves against your too close erection. You like seeing him without his shades for a change, but now wasn’t the time to focus on that, not when you had your cock out standing above your older brother in the middle of the night.

Your pre-cum drips onto the side of his face and you hurriedly reach a finger out to wipe it off before bringing it to you lips. It tastes like Bro and your own release.

Even more carefully than when you crossed the room, you climb up onto his futon, grateful for the lack of springy sounds. You straddle his chest, placing your hand lightly against his jaw to move his face towards you.

You need him more than you ever thought you would.

Stupidly, you shuffle forwards more, the boxers riding down your thighs. You place your hands on either side of his head. Your dicks bounces and throbs in front of his face, and there’s only one thing left to do.

Quickly, you plunge your erection into his waiting mouth. The wet heat envelops you, and if it wasn’t for your own restraint you would’ve come on the spot. You eye him for any sign of wakefulness, but he’s still dead asleep as ever. You begin shallowly thrusting forwards, never going past the three quarter mark in his mouth.

You don’t even need to think back to your dream to help you get off because Bro makes a noise in his sleep and it sends vibrations up your cock. You pull out faster than you thought possible and throw a hand up to cover the cum now spurting out of the tip as you use the other to squeeze yourself dry through your orgasm.

A few stray white strands land on Bro’s face, and before you can think about it you’re bending down to lick them off.  When he’s clean you lick what’s left of the stick substance off of your hand, pretending that it’s his and not yours.

As much as you’d love to stay, you fumble off the bed and stand, yanking up your boxers. You look back to make sure he’s still to bed, and thankfully, he hasn’t moved a muscle.

You snap out of your bliss and try not to run out of the room, shutting his door soundlessly behind you.

Once back in your own bed, you stare at the ceiling until you drift off. Guilt, shame, and bliss racking your body even as you sleep.

 

* * *

 

 

Your name is Dirk ‘Bro’ Strider, and you lift a hand to feel the slightly sticky wetness on your face as you thrust hard into your closed fist that’s under the sheets. 


	2. Memories of the Humiliation Variety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back-story through Bro's eyes with sexual frustration and tender moments.

It’d been a week.

A little more than a week, actually.

Nine fucking days.

And the kid was still at it.

Every other night Dave would sneak in and stand near the edge of your bed, huffing and rubbing at himself, leaning between your closed thighs, or if you were lucky, lightly opening your jaw and shallowly thrusting. It took every ounce of your chakra to not fake cough and wake up, or just open your eyes and pull him down on top of you.

You wanted him, and it hadn’t started on that night nine days ago.

* * *

Dave had to of been ten or eleven at the time when he started getting “impromptu” boners in public, private, and even when you two were strifing.

You’d known you’d have to deal with it sooner or later, but you were hoping it would’ve been later. Sadly, due to the constant workouts and most likely the sexual paraphernalia littering your apartment, Dave hit puberty early. Much, much earlier than any of his friends did. Hell that one boy with the glasses still squeaked when he came over.

Needless to say, you sat him down on the futon supported by cinderblocks and had “the talk” once his teacher informed you of the subject you’d been trying your hardest to avoid. 

Maybe you were a little confused on the topic yourself, after all you did try to demonstrate it with smuppet ass and dong, but it didn’t stop Dave from researching everything he could on the topic, so you figured you did good. If a ten year old kid researching sex is a good thing anyway.

When he was almost thirteen you’d walked in on him jacking himself off in the privacy of his bed. That night, he’d assumed you’d still be at work past dinner time like usual.

He was wrong.

You’d waltzed in with a big paper bag of Chinese food in one hand and some terrible action flicks in the other, tossing the keys onto the floor and shutting the door with your back. It was rare you two had a night where you could just hang out without it either being too sappy or you being too busy. The reason you had it off may have been because a tipsy college girl got sick all over the DJ equipment at the gig, but that didn’t damper your spirits.

Trying not to bounce from the entryway to his bedroom, you let a small smirk rise onto your lips. Unconsciously you fidgeted to fix your wrinkled white polo shirt and tight black jeans. Once at his door, the only thing left to do was knock.

There wasn’t a reply, but you heard music drifting out through the wood. Not loud enough for it to come from his speakers, probably meaning he had headphones on.

That was definitely an invitation to walk right in.

Irony to the wind you shouldered the door open with a wide grin, actually excited to chill out with your little bro, but, well, Dave seemed to have other plans.

Above the sheets you could see half of his bare arm pumping underneath. The other hand was in his mouth, red with teeth marks. His stupid, uncool, lame shades were on his stand next to the super ironic ones you’d given him as a toddler he rarely wore in favor of the stupid, uncool, lame shades his squeaky friend had given him.

It was probably petty for you to think that way about his choice in eye-wear, but you couldn’t seem to give one fuck about it.

Because in that moment, Dave looked stunning.

His lips quivered around the joint on his thumb, white teeth in sharp contrast to his then tanned skin. One of his canines had brought up a droplet of blood, but he didn’t seem to care. Saliva dripped down his fingers, and for the life of you you’d never been able to get that part of the memory out of your head.

His eyes were clenched tight against his cheekbones, eyelashes tipped with water, and his brows knitted down into a crease above the bridge of his button nose. His freckles popped underneath the yellow ceiling light, as did the sweat running down his forehead and temples. Even his hair was sloppy, strewn out and clinging to his face, patted down by his headphones.

He still hadn’t noticed you in the five seconds you’d been staring at him rigorously squeeze himself. Not even when his eyelids fluttered and he released a loud groan with a slight crack and hiccup.

But that was probably for the best, you fucking idiot.

You just stood there, still holding the food and movies, with the same fucking grin of just absolute happiness at the prospect of brotherly bonding. To anyone else it would’ve been pretty fucking creepy. To Dave it would’ve been mortifying for the both of you.

It was not the Strider way to act awkward.

Nah.

You couldn’t have that.

You flash-stepped the fuck out of there, nearly dropping your goods, and leaned against the wall of your own bedroom panting for reasons unknown.

Oh but wait.

It also wasn’t the Strider way to back down from a challenge.

Yeah.

That was definitely a reason for you to go back.

A perfectly legitimate reason.

Physically wiping the emotions off your face with the back of your hand, you flash-stepped back to Dave’s room.

Time to be hilarious, Bro.

This was it.

Your turn to be the prettiest ballerina in the recital.

You threw the bonding material dead onto Dave’s crotch, crossing your arms directly afterwards, and letting a more insincere smirk cross your lips this time.

Dave’s eyes flashed open so fast you almost didn’t catch it behind your own shades. He hurriedly spit out his hand and thrust it under the sheets, bringing his knees up as well to cover his crowning achievement. The bag and movies fell onto the floor.

Redness spread across his cheeks, and you doubted it was just from his earlier rooster preening.

Alright Dirk. Think of better masturbation analogies later because that was terrible.

“Sup lil man.”

You were getting much more enjoyment out of this than you wanted to think about.

“’S-sup.” He didn’t look you in the eye, instead choosing to study a particularly neat-o orange feather on his floor.

You weren’t going to let him get off that easy.

Okay, that one was better. Good job.

“What you got there?” Instinctively he pushed his knees closer together, causing the steadily forming muscles on his arms to flex at the extra press down.

“I don’t know whatcher talkin’ about, Bro.” His voice was strained and aching. Almost,  _wanting_. Made sense after how quickly you’d just cut him off.

“Gotta be somethin’ real cool for you to be hidin’ it under your blankets like that, right?”

What were you even doing right now? This was definitely past the point where you usually stopped your teasing, or really, “preparing Dave for adulthood.” Like adulthood involved people walking in on him jacking off and demanding to see his dick.

Wait, was that what you were doing?

Dave finally made eye contact with you. His eyes wide and pleading. Begging you to not do what you’re thinking about doing. “Oh, no, it’s nothin’, really.” His voice was back to its usual deadpan.

“Hey now, no secrets in this house young lady.” You uncrossed your arms and took a step forward. He flinched back, readjusting himself to make it look like he did it on purpose. You snorted. “I can’t believe you don’t trust me enough to show me. I’m hurt Dave, really.” Your voice never quavered, keeping the monotone the whole way. Another few steps, and you neared the end of his bed. “Is it a puppy? Or another bird? I told you management doesn’t allow pets, Dave.” He squirmed, you stepped. “I’m all for stickin’ it to the man, literally and figuratively, but we can’t be gettin’ kicked out into the cold.” It was getting harder and harder for you to keep your cool. You weren’t sure if you wanted to laugh at your own jokes, or… something else you didn’t want to think about.

The kid stilled, unmoving and unblinking, finally regaining some Strider sensibilities. “Nah man I don’t need any pets, not with all these fuckin’ plush rumps around. Don’t know why they say dogs are man’s best friend when there’s smuppets.”

You’re losing it in your head. You really taught him well. He almost deserved you ending the torture right then and there.

Almost.

“I agree with you there, buddy.” You were at the edge of that mattress now, looming over him expertly from countless hours of practice on your looming skills. “Just show me.”

You both knew what it was, and Dave looked even more confused that you weren’t backing off. You weren’t sure why you hadn’t flash-stepped back out with a thumbs up to leave the kid to his business already either.

“Uh, Bro?” He squinted up at you, perplexed.

You exhaled roughly. “I won’t be mad.”

Dave gulped, immobile. Unsure, he moved his gripped hands onto the edges of the sheets. Slowly he pushed them down, revealing more of his bare torso, and the start of his red-hearted boxers.

It finally clicked with you.

You felt a stir as the base of his erection was about to be shown.

And again, you flash-stepped the fuck out of there, landing haphazardly in your room, sprawled across your futon.

No.

Nooo.

No.

Bad bro.

Bad father-brother hybrid.

You felt another stir and glanced down to your crotch.

Yep, exactly what you expected.

Groaning, you rolled onto your stomach, trying to ignore your annoyingly obvious boner.

Really, you tried, but not even five minutes later Dave was back to it from what you heard. And as much as you knew he was biting his hand yet again, you still heard him breathily moan out your name. It definitely wasn’t helping you at all.

As it hadn’t been helping you since he began his research on why his boxers were flipped up most mornings.

Every time you’d heard him since then, that’s how he would end.

The first time he did it, when you knew it was the first time he’d ever really touched himself and didn’t know how to muffle his voice, you almost barged in to make a joke at his expense like what you’d just tried to do. Of course, less creepily and sexually. But something stopped you right outside his door, leather clad hand ready to knock.

“Bro-oh…” You’d stopped breathing, turning right around and tromping back to your turntables for a vivacious round of mixing music.

It wasn’t like you’d meant to walk in on him with the Chinese that time, and it wasn’t like you meant to act that way, either.

It was just getting to you.

Hearing your name like that, from him, it always made you twitch like no one else had ever been able to.

You weren’t really a garden variety whore, but you did anything and everything besides selling yourself on a corner after it started. You just had to get Dave out of your mind somehow, but no matter how many people you heartlessly fucked it never felt right. They weren’t what you wanted; you barely ever managed to get off. Thus beginning two years of clumsy masturbation in the dark listening to your brother/son through the paper thin walls.

Not a good hobby for a man your age, but some people said sewing smuppets and strifing on a roof weren’t either, so fuck it.

You’d caved.

You just couldn’t take it anymore.

Especially not when you borrowed Dave’s laptop and accidentally perused his browsing history, stumbling upon cross-dressing shotas frotting against older men.

It was on impulse, but you didn’t cancel the order. You bought him a kawaii maid outfit with all the matching accessories.

That was the night your dreams came true.

A month from the time you threw Chinese food and Chuck Norris’ face on DVDs at Dave’s crotch, you finally had him underneath you.

And neither of you could’ve been happier when he didn’t muffle his voice and screamed your name.

That first time, you both didn’t last long.

It was too much pent up frustration from him being a teenager, and you having to bear it all in silence.

You remembered how soft he was, how warm. How shocked he was when you took off your shades. He’d never seen your dark orange eyes before.

You remembered his arms encircling your neck and his legs wrapped around your thighs to cross at the back. His breath hitching on your shoulder, teeth accidentally grazing it. His eyes would either be wide or clenched when you looked down at him, and every time they were shut you couldn’t help but kiss them. It was a slow pace because there wasn’t a rush; there wasn’t anything else that could separate you from him in that moment. He was all you needed and all you would ever need.

Dave had just barely turned thirteen then, and the four months preceding that night were the best you’d ever had in your life.

Every night Dave would be in your bed, sometimes just cuddling, other times writhing. When he wasn’t homeschooling himself or chatting with his friends he’d be next to you. Stroking your arm, fiddling with your shades annoyingly, rutting against your thigh. You know, normal stuff for the Strider brothers.

Slowly the activity died down on his side.

Dave would be busy pestering his internet chums, but usually, it was the squeaky one, John.

So maybe it wasn’t just the fact your little bro wore the shades John got him that made you petty. It might’ve also been the fact that the kid was always talking to Dave, and it cut into your time with him. Sure, Dave didn’t know what was coming in April as much as John didn’t, but it still made your kokoro ache missing the time with him you wouldn’t be able to get back.

Near the end of March, Dave holed up in his room more than ever. Researching yet again online for the perfect present for John’s birthday.

You were more than a little upset.

And when glasses’ birthday rolled around, it was like Dave had forgotten you.

Of course he still cuddled next to you at night, and you spent some of your time doing “extracurricular activities,” but he was always distant. Looking off when you were watching a movie, or on his laptop right after a strife. You knew he was just missing his friends and worried about John’s present, but it didn’t hurt any less.

You’d wanted to tell him what was going to happen; that this was the last chance he’d have to be with you, but you couldn’t bear taking the joy away from him that he had on that day.

He was so excited to play the game, practically bouncing off the walls.

You didn’t mean to mess him up as badly as you did when he came for your copies of the game, but you couldn’t help it. It was the last thing you could give him: a look at what he was headed into.

Then you vanished, leaving him alone on a roof, later joined by an orange feathery asshole that eventually came to you.

Davesprite told you how he was doing, and how he always seemed to be looking for you. All you wanted at that point was to find him again, tell him what you couldn’t before, and apologize for not doing it before. Apologize for screwing up his childhood. Apologize for not loving him enough. Apologize for leaving him.

But you couldn’t.

You laid there on the cold ground, warm blood trickling down your abdomen and soaking into the earth.

You’d smiled, looking into his eyes as he knelt next to you.

He bent closer, tears dribbling onto your cheeks mixing with your own sorrow.

“I’m sorry, lil man.” You’d coughed, choking on another wave of blood as you tried to laugh.

The last thing in your mind Dave screaming your name, but not for a reason you ever wanted him to.

 

* * *

He never remembered after the game.

Something happened to him. You weren’t sure what, but when you came back after the game, and he rushed into your arms to hug you tightly while sobbing, he was different. More distant, but not in the same way he had been before.

When you’d gotten him alone you’d leaned down to kiss him, missing his lips against yours, his warm body pressed against your own.

He’d flinched backwards, and you played it off as a joke.

From then on any advances toward what you’d had before were shot down and turned around into irony.

Dave had forgotten, and you didn’t know how to help him remember. Hell you didn’t even know if it was fair for him remember. He was better off not knowing what went on between the two of you. It’d give him the chance to have a normal childhood.

Months after the game had ended, Dave was into his typical routine. Mixing music, making web-comics, and skyping his only three friends. Most nights you could hear him through the walls. He was only fifteen, after all. Instead of what he used to do, though, he now murmured John, or Jade, in the pitch dark.

It was hard for you to live like that. You physically ached walking by him in the hall. Your hangout sessions and strifes had slowed down to a stop because you just didn’t want to see him anymore.

But that’s when Dave’s late night escapades started to change back. Less and less would you hear him whisper his friends’ names. Instead, he’d whisper Bro, just like he used to. He’d sounded it out the first time, slowly, confused. Not understanding why that name would come to mind.

You weren’t able to sleep that night.

He’d been doing it in the time since. He’d glance at you in the hall and the living room. The few times you’d cook you could feel his eyes raking over you before he’d quickly shuffle off. If you were on the couch together, he’d subconsciously move closer until he was practically in your lap. He was testing the boundaries, you could tell. You wanted it, but you couldn’t have it. Not now. You’d never advanced on him again, you’d promised yourself you wouldn’t, praying that finally Dave could be normal. Or, as normal as a kid in a penthouse surrounded by sex toys and katanas could be.

A part of you still hoped he’d remember it all though, and the little voice in the back of your head made you guiltier than ever. Dave had been able to get out of this lifestyle, it wouldn’t be fair if you dragged him back into it.

Right?

 

* * *

Dave was almost sixteen now.

You were on your way to reaching mid-thirties.

But those nine fucking nights that had happened were some of the greatest in your life.

Halfway through the midnight escapades was when Dave really started to pick it up. He wouldn’t just be fucking his hand above you or the occasional prying your jaw open, he’d started to touch you, too.

Hesitant as he was the first time, it didn’t stop him from going through with his plans. You weren’t even sure how you’d kept your eyes closed or your whimpers in line.

His fingers were cool as they’d spread your legs, shifting them up until they were seated across his shoulders. He was so careful about it, but there was no way that you’d not have been woken if you actually were asleep.

Struggling, you kept your arms at your sides, your breathing even, and willed your dick not to pop up for Dave to get suspicious about.

Slowly he pressed your thighs together, and that’s when you really figured out what he was going to do. You choked back a moan when he bent over further to palm your dick. He didn’t stop until you were fully erect and his cock was pressured between your legs.

You could feel his eyes on you, looking for signs of wakefulness. You gave him none, and he continued.

He moved forward, back, and forward again. Over and over. Directly rubbing against your own dick and thighs. You opened your eyes to see him panting heavily with his head down. You kept them open, closing them only when he would look up to your face.

He kept going, the friction and heat against you caused you to arch your back up into his touch. You gripped the sheets, but he didn’t notice. You let out a groan, but he didn’t hear over the sound of his own.

Your legs bounced against his back, your chest heaved, and your head thrust back into the futon. His hips collided above yours, your dicks pushed too close yet not close enough together, and he drooled onto your abdomen.

All you wanted was to flip him underneath you and take him like you wanted, but you knew you couldn’t. This was as good as it was going to get for now.

His smaller frame kept pushing against your large one. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes screwed shut. When his hips began to stutter you knew he was as close as you were.

Frantically, he thrusted faster and more downwards than before. He canted hard and glanced up at your face. You barely had enough time to close your eyes before he shot ropes of cum across your stomach. Your own cock pulsed pathetically, and you couldn’t resist.

You pushed your hips up and rubbed against him until you were coming harder than you ever had. You moaned again with your back lifting off the sheets before lying back down in an exhausted puddle.

Dave was frozen in place, afraid you had woken.

You stilled, not moving, not even twitching.

Apparently it was believable enough. He wiped you both off with his boxers.

After he got rid of the evidence and sneaked out, you were left with the heat on your skin and the memory of his touch. Sometimes you wouldn’t wear anything to bed, like that night, and when you did that Dave would groan as soon as he came into your room, and again when he came usually onto you.

On the tenth night, you started to lose it.

He strides into the room like he wants to get caught. You’re on your side, facing a wall with your eyes shut tight. Your muscles shake, waiting for whatever he plans to do tonight. It was weird the first time he made you lose your cool years ago, but now you were used to it, and it was okay if he was the only one that could do it.

He shifts his weight onto the futon, the springs rejoicing. He rolls you onto your back. You try to ignore your urges.

You fail.

Your arm reaches out and you pull him down on top of you, rolling back over with his back pressed to your chest. You still fake asleep, shifting to get comfortable with him so close. Your kokoro picks up its pace, and you hope he doesn’t notice.

He’s gasping like he can’t breathe. He probably thinks your awake and gonna kick his half naked ass onto the roof for a strife, but after a few moments of not moving, he turns his head back to look at you. You feel his eyes bear into you, causing an involuntary shiver.

Dave struggles, but you keep your grip tight and nonchalant. Thankfully only a few more tussles and he gives up. You readjust again, making no space between you and him.

You missed this.

Just… holding him. It felt so different from how it used to be. He even looked different. His arms weren’t so skinny anymore, his hips were wider, his tan had paled dramatically, and his freckles had dimmed. But he was still warm. He was still your Dave.

At some point he drifts into sleep, holding the arm you have wrapped around him. You study him a while longer, preventing the inevitable that is the sun rising. Again you fail to keep your body from reacting on its own, and you’re passed out alongside Dave

 

* * *

In the morning you still don’t move, instead choosing to wait for Dave to wake up first.

When he does you feel him go rigid. You move onto your other side, letting him go while remaining “asleep.” He trips out of the room and into his own with a slam of both doors.

Idiot.

Stupid idiot.

Stupid cute idiot.

 Fuck.

You grumble and lay on your back.

You try to deny your thoughts, at least for a while longer.

Burning a hole into the ceiling, you stare intently at a bump in the spackle.

“Fuck. I’m still in love.”

It was stupid to think you ever weren't.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT:
> 
> I went back and added more sex stuff cause I really wasn't liking this chapter at all. It was like slightly sad why.  
> to clarify a few things:  
> \- In chapter 1 Dave thinks they've been distant because he doesn't remember the real reasons why (before and after the game)  
> \- Dirk started getting off to Dave at night before he ran into him with the Chinese and stuff, then the maid stuff happened from chapter 1 and sex, then yeah you got the rest


	3. Pikachu Used Double-Slap!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave finds himself caught up in the moment and then remembers some startling information.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's consensual, it's always consensual in this fic

You weren’t really sure what you were doing anymore.

Or well, you were, but if you admitted that then you’d probably feel so guilty you’d break down into small Strider atoms.

As far as you knew, you’d been managing your late night hijinks in secret, even with that moment of pure terror when you’d thought he’d woken up as he pulled you into a hug. But Bro didn’t know, and Bro didn’t need to know. If it could keep going along like that, then who’s to say it was wrong?

Your conscience.

* * *

 

“Bro, what the actual fuck are you doing right now?” You growl at him as he grabs your arm.

His grip tightens and you feel small, smaller than you already are. His fingers are cold as he shifts to your wrist and tugs you along into his bedroom. You audibly gulp and try to claw his hand off of you, but he doesn’t budge.

He yanks you by the hold he has and throws you onto the bed. The breath’s knocked out of you causing a couple of quick gasps. You scramble for purchase on the smooth sheets and push yourself into a seated position on the edge of the bed.

“W-what is it?” You still try to get your breath back.

“You broke. My sword.” He says, stopping in the middle of his sentence to deadpan even more, if that was possible. His face is impassive and unreadable especially with his stupid anime shades fixed on the bridge of his nose.

He stands a foot away from you but you can still feel the heat coming off of him.

“I said I was sorry. It was a shitty one anyway-“ You’re interrupted by a quick slap across your face that sends your aviators flying. Bro had flash-stepped to you, and his arm was still raised from the blow.

You quickly reach a hand up to hold you cheek out of instinct. It stings and tingles and feels warm under your touch. Honestly, it hurt like hell, but you mentally kept your tearducts in check while staring the way your head was knocked after the hit.

“Bend over.”

You look back at him, your mouth agape as you drop your hand, eyes wide with shock. “You’re not serious.”

“Do I sound like I’m not serious.” It wasn’t a question.

“No.” You mumble.

“No, what?” He still doesn’t make it sound like a question but you can tell he wants an answer, even if you’re unsure of what it would be.

“No… Uh, sir?”

He smacks you again.

“What did we talk about last time?”

You don’t respond immediately and he grabs your arm again to pull you up. He spins you around, and throws you back down again. Your burning cheek is pressed against the bed as your jean-clad ass sticks out over the bed.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice cracks as you try to bottle your emotions.

He bends over you, his chest to your back, and whispers lovingly in your ear. “The safe word is still Pikachu little bro.”

You nod and he stands back up straight. You fist your hands into the sheets, already knowing what was going to happen.

Bro pulls your jeans down, wrenching them off of you without bothering with the zipper. You hear a pop and pretty much assume that he’s just destroyed your favorite pair of pants, but that’s going to have to wait until later because now he’s got your boxers around your thighs.

There’s a whoosh of air and you know he’s got his hand raised over you right now.

“Do you want me to continue?”

“Yes.” You whimper out.

“Yes, what?”

Oh you remember. You never actually forgot but it was better this way.

“Yes, daddy.”

You’re pretty sure he purrs, like full-on fucking purrs, but the thought gets pushed out of your mind when a hard slap lands onto your now bare ass.

You choke on your own spit and claw against the bed. It hurts, it hurts so fucking much but all you want is for him to keep doing it and never stop but you also want to turn around and hit him the fuck back because _ow_. Of course that wouldn’t lead to the inevitable of getting off which your straining dick has oh so eloquently reminded you as it still twitches from the impact.

You can feel where Bro’s handprint would be, the five fingers splayed out from the center area of pain. You shudder and bite your lip. He rubs his leather-clad hand over the spot and your seventy-eight percent sure you just bit your lip hard enough to bleed because your tasting some iron-copper shit but you don’t care. In fact, you keen, pushing yourself higher into the air, locking your legs. He brings his hand back down, and this time you really feel the sting of the leather.

You find yourself moaning out, “Daddy!” a few times, and clearly that spurred him on for another slap hard enough to send a _crack_ through the air. You’re drooling now, your face rubbing into it with the next smack and the attempt at sliding your erection against the edge of the bed.

He grabs at your ass again, rubbing the pain deeper. You feel the heat as far as your tailbone. Bro pulls your hips back making the friction on your cock non-existent. You whine at him which earns you a quick but hard double-slap on one cheek (the double-slap move being a frequent thing is what actually caused the safe-word to be Pikachu per Bro’s ironic request). Another choke halts your breathing and you sputter in your attempt to get it back.

You pant with your mouth open wide adding to the wetness already under your face.

“More?” Bro asks in a gravelly voice as he grips your hair and yanks your head up.

“Yes, daddy, yes please oh god keep punishing me I deserve it I’m sorry for breaking your sword so sorry,” you pant out.

He shoves your face into the mattress slaps you twice on each side. You struggle to breathe through the sheets blocking your airways.

“I need it I’ll break something again I just know it help me to understand daddy teach me what I did wrong so it won’t h-happen ah-again!” He roughly reaches around you to pinch your inner thigh while increasing the rate of hit slaps.

Bro rubs, inching higher and you try not to scream at him to just touch your fucking dick already. Another hit. He’s much closer now. The next one was harder. He’s just below your erection and you hear the pre-cum drip onto the leather before the next snap of his hand.

Just like that, you feel the sensation building at the base of your stomach reach its boiling point. You tighten and release onto the bed with a scream into it.

You snap your eyes open and flip onto your back. Bro isn’t there. Your pants are on. You have half a hard on and a wet spot beneath that on your jeans.

“Oh my fucking God no are you fucking kidding me NO.” You screech at yourself and kick your school books off of your bed.

You must’ve started daydreaming and rolled over.

But it felt more real than that dream you’d had a few weeks prior. Fuck it all you hated your life.

The afternoon Texas sun beat into your room onto the carpet and across your sheets. Your ass had been right in the fucking light.

You roll your eyes and sit up.

You were so close to throwing a temper tantrum. Just a full on break everything around you and cry angry tears. But you were a Strider, and Striders don’t cry, or show emotion in general really.

Instead you choose to sigh and stand, grabbing the tissue box out of your night stand and peeling off your soiled clothes. You don’t feel like taking a shower so you clean yourself up as best as you can before heading to your bureau for a new set of clothes.

Content with the soft, black long-sleeved T-shirt and red jeans, you grab your aviators that must’ve fallen off while you’d dozed up off of the floor and put them back on.

You stroll out of your room, pretending nothing had happened, and you only barely jump when you see Bro on the futon in the living room.

You pray with everything you have you weren’t making noises in your sleep. That was the last thing you needed when you were playing up your somnophelia kink every night.

Note to self maybe you should lay off of that for a little bit just in case.

As long as you were going to do that, you decide what the hell as you stand in front of the refrigerator. You pull out some AJ, and walk over to stand a few meters away from Bro, the coffee table separating you at a diagonal. He doesn’t look at you, eyes trained at the TV, but even if he was you couldn’t tell with those shades on covering half of his face.

His arms were sprawled over the back of it and one leg was crossed over the other.

Now for the thing you decided what the hell on.

You take a sip of your juice box (Bro insisted that juice boxes were what all the cool kids were drinking nowadays the bastard), and wait until he turns his head towards you.

Another sip for good measure with a look to the side and aloofness radiating from your every poor.

“Pikachu.”

He flinches and makes a move to stand. You patiently wait, but he never really get ups. Just uncrosses his legs and grips his knees.

“What was that little bro?” He grits out.

You shrug.

“Nothing.”

You walk away headed back to your room. The futon springs strain and you expect him to follow you, but he doesn’t.

You lay back down on your bed, setting the juice aside, and ignore your pulse.

He flinched. _Flinched_. Did that mean he heard you?

You think back to the daydream, remembering every bit of it like it had actually happened. You remember you didn’t just feel smaller, you felt younger too.

Your heads pounds and a vision of Bro bleeding and broken is before you. He’s whispering to you. He was sorry. You felt so guilty that you didn’t make enough time for them. You kissed him when his eyes closed, lingering there until he was cold and Terezi was pestering you nonstop. Only then did you stand, wipe your tears, and continue on your journey, with a hope that at the end of it all he might come back.

You gasp and sit up.

Now that one really didn’t feel like a dream. 


	4. You Remember The Bad Old Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave questions his memory.

You do end up laying off it.

The whole “molesting your brother in his sleep” thing.

It was also wrong as fuck that even thinking of that phrase made your dick twitch. Really come on who a) would do that and who b) would get off on it?

You. Dave Strider. That’s who.

Sighing seemed to be the best course of action, so you do as you clench your eyes shut.

It’d been a while since your last fondling practice, about the same amount of time since you thought of Bro dead in front of you.

Actually, the exact same amount of time, and the dead Bro oriented thoughts were picking up to the point where talking to Rose about it might’ve actually been a real option for you. The only reason you hadn’t mentioned it yet was because it was Rose, and once you tell one thing to her you’d end up spilling out everything else you’d been thinking about and doing to Bro.

Not a great thing to have happen though of course she’s probably be like, “Oh Dave, I knew there was some homoerotic underlining facet of your relationship with your brother,” in complete seriousness. Which would make it worse. A lot worse. So many more times worse that the narrator quit and another one was hired.

You shake the SpongeBob out of your head and continue on your train of thought.

Messaging Terezi had done you no good, she quickly said “BY3 D4V3” as soon as you asked her about your bro and if anything had happened in-game.

While it’s something none of you ever tried to talk about, it still seemed pretty odd. Now another ‘vision’ crashes into your skull and practically blinds you. You try to will it away, but it won’t budge.

You’re standing on a sort of hilly cliff, feathers surrounding you, Bro dead in front of you (literally and physically). It hurt to look at, and you find yourself clutching the front of your T-shirt in an attempt to pull the pain away.

The only thing you can hear is yourself whispering, “I’m not a hero,” over and over and over again.

Because you weren’t, Bro was the hero. John was a hero. You could pick any person that played a part in the game and they could be classified a hero.

But not you. You hadn’t done anything. You hadn’t been able to save Bro, hadn’t been able to pull a sword out of a stone, hadn’t been able to save Jade.

Nothing. You’d never become one. Stayed the same weak Dave all along.

It flashed away and with it your grip on reality came back with knowledge you hadn’t wanted.

* * *

You sit next to him on the couch later that night. Without the guilt of what you'd been doing the past weeks weighing you down it made you not want to avoid him as much as before. Of course you still felt guilty as hell, but without it still going on you were honestly starting to miss seeing him.

He was seated, relaxed but tensing every time you exhale. You watch him out of the corner of your eye as he leans on his hand, his head tilted just enough that you couldn't see behind his shades.

The TV blares a British racing show that Bro didn't watch ironically. At gunpoint you'd have to admit that yeah you liked it for real too, but right now you couldn't bring yourself to really care about it.

Every other time you glance at Bro you'd see blood and a sword through his chest.

It was alarming, no, terrifying. Reminding yourself it's all in your imagination was the only thing keeping you from jumping the one cushion distance to him.

Mini panic attacks drew your concentration away from the TV as you tried to calm yourself down, and before you knew it Bro was flipping through the channels. He flinches as he passes over a channel playing Pokemon when Ash yells Pikachu and you almost start to laugh.

He was much more tense after that. It barely looked like he was breathing (you had to watch closely a couple times to make sure what with your hallucinations already fucking you over).

You want to say something. The silence wasn't as comforting as it used to be. You just weren't sure _what_ to say.

Should you tell him about what you'd been seeing? Tell him what you'd been doing while he was asleep? Tell him you had the hots for your brother and screw everyone's moral bullshit who thought it was wrong?

Sure, that sounds like a great idea. Better pack up your turntables and apple juice Dave before he kicks your ass into therapy.

You sigh and he turns his head to look at you before snapping it back to the TV.

Well what's the worst that could happen, right?

"Hey Bro?" You don't look at him.

He doesn't look at you either, or say anything for a solid minute, until finally he mutters, "What?"

"Remember the game?" Oh that was stupid. You're stupid.

Silence longer than a minute this time. At least three if you're counting right. "Of course."

"You know how you died?"

"... Yeah."

"What happened? Like the whole story."

He turns to look at you.

"Dude everyone told their side of it when we all reunited. How do you not remember?"

"Nah I do remember," you pause and glance at him. "It's just... Was that all that happened? What you told me then?"

He's quiet again, stares past your shades, expression un-moving but fingers twitching against the buttons on the remote. His nose starts to redden, and the edges you can see around the glasses are getting just as blotchy by the second. His shoulders shake but barely enough for anyone but another Strider to tell.

When he does speak, his voice cracks, and he sounds like he has a cold.

"Yeah little man, that was it. I died 'cause of that dog guy tryin' to save your ass in the long run and then you found me later. End of story."

You blink.

He's still trying to sound cool.

"Oh... Okay."

Bro stands and turns his back on you.

"Do you want Chinese or something like that? I'm going to order out. Left my phone in my room I'll be right back."

He doesn't flashstep, just walks on wobbly legs. You get up as he starts to make his way down the hall, and you catch him by the back of his shirt at the half-way mark to his room.

"Striders don't cry," you whisper to him. "We're also not supposed to lie. Pretty sure we made it a rhyme so we wouldn't forget. Now how could you forget a rhyme, Bro?"

"Yeah that's my bad. 'M sorry." He actually sniffles, his accent becoming more apparent while his shoulders relax

You flashstep in front of him and take him off guard, probably for the first time in your life, and grab his collar, pulling him down to your level. "Just don't let it happen again."

You yank him forward onto you, shades and teeth clacking harshly together. He tastes like oranges and nicotine, his lips are soft and warm on your own partially chapped ones, and his tongue starts to trace the edges of your teeth.

And you are screaming at yourself in your head that a) he didn't push you away, b) holy shit he didn't push you away, and c) whatever the fuck was going on with these hallucinations and visions, they were definitely not just you going insane. They were memories. Painful, incredible, sexual, depressing, and amazing memories. You were pretty sure, anyway. You should probably ask Bro when he wasn't attached to your face and had his hands in your hair and his body pressed up against your own with his hips glued to yours.

Wait, what were you thinking about again?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fic updates aren't top priority for me sadly


	5. Nothing Really Matters When You're With Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short, sloppy makeouts.

Your mouth hurts, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

Your shoulders ache, but you can’t seem to give a single fuck.

Your legs are sore, but well okay that kind of hurt.

Bro presses himself against you on the top of your bed. The sheets are half-kicked off from the tumble you’d taken onto it, and then the inevitable roll-arounds as what seemed to be a reference to that one part from The Lion King. He pins you with his body weight alone, hips grinding into yours. You’ve got one leg around his waist and your fingers in his shirt. Neither of you had managed to separate long enough to take off any clothes.

You keep waiting for the moment when you wake up with an incredibly annoying boner. The thought dims your hope; your grips on Bro’s back becomes less forceful. He takes notice, pulling back and panting harshly against your lips. He stares into your eyes, both pairs of shades long forgotten at the end of the hall.

“W-what’s wrong?” He stutters.

Actually stutters. Bro Strider stuttered because of you. Holy shit that did not help the heat down below.

“I, nothing… I can’t believe this is actually happening.” You whisper, almost to yourself, assuming that if you say it out louder you’ll jinx shit up.

Bro pulls away further, pushing himself up onto his hands and staring down at you. Fuck, you jinxed shit up.

“Look, we shouldn’t-,” you cut him off with a grip on the back of his neck and a meeting of lips.

The first break for air you gasp out to him.

“You were fine with it t-the past twenty minutes bro.”

You dive back in before he has a chance to retort.

At the next, you continue. “Like fuck man you can’t just change your mind halfway through who the hell does that it’s just plain rude to leave a guy hangin’ like this come on.”

And again you kiss him to shut him up, steadily rolling your hips against his. He groans into your mouth, vibrating all the way to your throat. His tongue curls into yours. You lift your other hand to his hair, lacing through it and using it as another means to bring him even closer to you. The friction being produced through two pairs of jeans isn’t really getting either of you off, but you can’t quite move at the moment. You just don’t want it to end. Don’t want to push him away for a second to realize you’re just dreaming.

Or worse, he’ll be gone again.

Bro detaches himself from you and gets a word in before you can stop him this time.

“Dave, after what happened last time, I-I don’t know if this is a good idea.” He presses his forehead against yours, his hair starting to wilt back down while you watch a bead of sweat drip down the side of his face.

At the realization of his words, you snap your eyes to his.

“Wait, w-what?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i like cliff-hangers


	6. To Frick or Not To Frick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What exactly is Bro doing in Mexico.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh it's still 4/13 right guys?
> 
> ~~it's been like a month since i last updated i'm sorry go read oops~~

“I thought you remembered?” He poses it as a question, pushing himself off of you to sit up, his clothed dick rubbing against yours again for a brief second. “Isn’t that why we’re doing this in the first place?”

“Goddamn Bro don’t expect me to remember fucking every little detail jesus Christ.” You stand and throw your hands in the air with a sigh, your own boner annoyingly apparent and demanding attention.

“Wait so what don’t you remember? The little details or what?” Bro pushes a hand through his deflated hair before holding one up to you. “Actually, don’t answer that.”

He rolls off the futon onto his feet, flashstepping out your bedroom door to stand in the hall.

“I can’t be doing this to you again.”

Keys jingle and the front door shuts quieter than you’ve ever heard.

You drop face-first onto your bed and scream into your pillow.

“That brother FUCKER.”

You’d laugh to yourself, but now isn’t the time.

 

* * *

 

You spent the next three days, four hours and twenty-seven minutes totally not focused on the time or how long Bro had been gone or any of that. Nah that didn’t pop into your mind even once. And while you weren’t thinking about how long he’d been gone, you thought about what the fuck his problem was instead.

You got yourself so angry; so riled up.

How DARE he just walk out on you like that without an explanation. Who the fuck just says “blah blah blah last time secret shit went down blah blah” and doesn’t elaborate? You’d finally gotten what you’d wanted and then he’d ripped it back out from under you.

You throw your pillow across your room and scramble to your computer desk for paper and a pen.

“Fucker thinks I don’t know what’s up,” you mutter. “I’ll show him.”

You begin a list of all the things you can remember that we’re the most likely to have actually happened.

“One: Bro died. Two: we fucked before that, probably a lot and under different circumstances. Three: Bro’s hiding something. Four: Bro’s an asshole,” you list them aloud. You write a number five, but leave the point blank and scratch your head with the end of the pen.

You sigh as you write beside the five, “I’m an asshole.” Throwing the utensil away from you, you grab your mouse and log into Pesterchum.

It was time to give in.

 

* * *

 

You called up that Harley guy that was your lil man’s friend’s grandfather or whatever the fuck and he gladly let you crash at his place for a while, never leaving the couch. The girl would run over and poke you sometimes before giggling and scribbling in her notebook. You didn’t question it, just turned over and stared into the back of the couch like it would solve all your problems.

After the game, they’d moved to Mexico, just to study some wildlife or something like that. You hadn’t been paying much attention when Dave had first talked about it. At that point in time you were still heartbroken he’d forgotten everything that had happened. You shake your head of the thought and instead poke your head up to study your bike outside the window that’s parked sloppily on their walkway. You hadn’t bothered to move it in the past two days, and they didn’t seem to care. You eye the tires, wondering if they were even going to get you back to Texas when you needed to. It was an eight hour drive down and to go back could possibly be double with the amount of breaks you plan on taking because if drinking twelve sodas meant not seeing the only hurt expression that Dave has then by fuck you were going to.

The Harley girl decided now was a good time to make you piss yourself by jumping over the back of the couch onto you. From the way she acted you thought she could’ve been ten, but Dave’s excited ramblings about her come back to you and you remember they’re the same age.

She laughs again, all high chimes and bells. “Hello Mister Strider!”

You grumble and press your face into the cushions.

“I thought Dave has said you were more ‘ninja’ than this, but you didn’t even hear me coming did you?”

If it wasn’t for your Southern sensibility you’d probably say something incredibly rude to scare her off. Right now though your heart ached and the last thing you needed was anyone around you.

“Kid, just step off. I’m tired, alright?”

“O-M-G it’s because you’re in love isn’t it?”

Your chest stops thumping for a moment. “What, no. Go away.”

“Woooowww you’re a bad liar. You’re supposed to be a bad ass Mister Strider.”

“Leave.”

“I think I’ll stay right here, actually. So who’s the lucky girl?”

You give a sigh of relief small enough she doesn’t notice.

“John’s hot grandmom. Can’t get enough of them cakes, what a babe.”

Jade sticks her tongue out at you and stands up. “Gross! Plus she’s totally taken, sorry to break it to you. Or wait is that why you’re so sad? Either way you should just get over it. You’re kind of wasting your life right now.”

“What do you mean?” You roll over to face her.

“Oh come on!” She talks with her hands. “You’ve been on our couch for days and the only thing you’ve eaten is hot pockets and only moved to be polite. You’re not even wearing pants for Bec’s sake!”

You pout. “I have nice legs though…”

Jade giggles and rolls her eyes. “Sureee you do Mister Strider. And how does Dave feel about you living here?”

“He… Doesn’t know where I went. I just kind of walked out.”

“All over a hot grandmom?! You can’t just leave your little brother like that dude! I was wondering why he hadn’t been online to talk and it’s probably because he’s so worried about where you are!”

You blink. “What?”

“He hasn’t been online in like a month at least to talk to any of us.” She huffs.

You sit up and stare at the floor.

“You didn’t know?” She eyes you.

You shake your head.

“Do you know at least what’s up with him? Why he might be doing that?”

You pause. “I, maybe. Not sure.”

“Well you better figure it out Mister Strider because we all miss the old Dave.”

Jade gives you a sad smile and finally leaves you alone.

 

* * *

 

“You mean to tell me that you ‘have the hots’ for your elder brother? That is what this is about?” Rose’s face is passive on your screen while the green light on your webcam blinks.

“Don’t say it like that jesus fuck Rose, please.” You cringe.

“Okay okay,” she dismisses you with her hand. “So you’re saying you’ve been having hallucinations about when he… died… then that you’re dreaming all these sexual fantasies about your kin. Also the two of you were about to engage in intercourse and then he left and hasn’t been home in three days. Did I get everything?”

“Yeah, but I don’t think they’re dreams though!” You pause at your outburst. “I think that it happened before the game, the uh ‘dreams’ or whatever, or at least some of the stuff. Bro asked if I remembered, so that must be what it is. I mean, if it wasn’t then why would he go along with ‘my advances’?”

Rose shakes her head and taps her cheek with a dark green fingernail. “Dave, I feel like there’s still a lot to this story that’s missing.”

“You’re tellin’ me.” You sigh and deflate backwards into your chair further. “Maybe I’m just crazy…”

“You should just talk about it with him directly. And you’re not crazy, Dave. I’ve seen crazy. If you think that what you’re dreaming really happened at a point in time, then I believe you.”

“…Thanks… But I tried callin’ him a million times, he didn’t answer. Texted too. What else can I do?”

“If it were me, I would just wait for him to get back.”

“But what if he never comes back?” You feel your eyes start to prick.

She leans forward and looks into her webcam. “Dave, he’s going to come back. Even if you did do something wrong, which you didn’t, he’s your brother and he loves you. Do you remember when we all got reunited at the end of the game? The first thing he did was throw you over his shoulder and run off and holed you up in your room buying you whatever you wanted. He wouldn’t even let us in your apartment to say hello he was so scared you’d get taken away from him again.”

“I think… I did forget that, actually…” You rub your face. “Thanks again Rose…”

“No problem ecto-brother. Just don’t fall in love with me next because there would be a problem with that.” She grins.

“Dude no gross stop I’m gonna hang up on you.” You can’t help but chuckle a bit.

“Awww but Dave.” Rose leans closer to the webcam and puts her arms out in a hugging fashion.

“Oh god bye.” You double click out of the chat.

“She said… I was in love?” You stare at your wall. “Fuck.”

 

* * *

 

You don’t make all the stops you’d expected. Just as unexpected you didn’t blow a tire on your way back either. Still being an eight hour trip though, you had plenty of time to think about what to say.

You mutter to yourself inside of your orange helmet.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck… Okay. Alright. Yeah I can do this. Totally yeah definitely I’m cool this is cool I can do this.”

You pull over into the desert.

“Fuck I can’t do this.”

Your phone buzzes consistently in your back pocket and you whip it out, flipping up your visor to read the messages.

_‘hey man whats going on_

_youve been gone for a while now_

_like did you go to get pizza cuz yeah i could totally go for that right now damn_

_must be taking a while been a few hours_

_getting kind of tired just wake me when you get back_

_hey just woke up youre still not back_

_thats cool ill just work on some raps until you show up_

_damn wait until you hear this one its pretty good man_

_lil cal misses you i think he keeps looking at me almost questioningly_

_you gotta go to the grocery store man im running low on supplies_

_pretty hot today right_

_scratch that the ac just started up again_

_going to bed now see you in the morning bro_

_hey getting kind of worried now_

_been a couple days_

_sorry for being an asshole_

_i didnt mean to pressure you_

_i thought you wanted it that was so uncool of me_

_was i wrong though can you tell me that_

_am i still remembering wrong bro_

_shit im so sorry_

_just talked to rose told her the whole situation_

_she thinks im right i think_

_like im not sure how to explain it actually_

_just waiting for you to get back_

_we can talk when you do_

_ill be here’_

You stare into the pixelated screen before up into the sky at the blinding sun. You flick your visor back down and ignore the sting you feel all over.

“Goddammit lil man I’m coming.”

You fist the handle and peel onto the concrete in a cloud of dirty sand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> random character throw ins this chapter what I woke up at 5am to write all these goddamn characters.
> 
> Edit: fixed the bit with Bro hanging up when Dave called, meant to take that out since i changed it to he was out of service, apologies


	7. The Beginning of a Beautiful Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just wanted to get this out, i don't remember when i wrote this much of it but i found the file and was like okay i'm just gonna post it and end it since it's been so long

His motorcycle's engine is the first thing you hear, drifting up from the pavement through your open window and half startling you out of your daze that consisted of purely staring at the ceiling. You sit up and begin to push your bangs out of your eyes with a sweaty palm before wiping it on your boxers and flicking your hair out of the way with a tilt of your head. Your shades stare up at you from your bedside table; you're not sure if throwing them on real quick was more important than putting on clean clothes.

You flash step to your closet, choosing some douchey black tank-top with your typical logo and some shorts that you put on too quick to really see the color of. Fidgeting with the hem of your shirt you pace in front of your door.

Ten seconds later, the next thing you hear is the front door opening and jumping you yet again. You remove the reflexive hand you gripped to your chest, smoothing the tank back out, before gripping the handle of your door. One quick pull and he's there, leaning on the wall across from you with his helmet under one arm and a foot propped up against the wall behind him. He's sweating, his shades are askew, his hat is missing, leather jacket clinging to his gray-clad shoulders,  boots dusty,  jeans dirty, hair completely out of place, stubble covering his broad jaw, and you could smell the orange soda and nicotine from here. 

He'd never looked more beautiful.

"Hey," he rasps out, lifting a hand to his mouth to clear his throat. "Hey," he tries again. 

"I...," you start before your throat closes up, "hey." 

"Let's just get down to it." He pushes himself away from the wall, tossing his helmet down the hallway and taking a step closer to you. You instinctively take one back and ram into your now closed door; you didn't even see his arm move that way. “'Listen, kid, your friend Opal, ah, Amethyst?"

You raise your eyebrows, wanting to smile but feeling too sick to manage it.

He raises his hands in self-defense before starting to clap one hand on your shoulder but hesitates and decides instead to stuff them into his pockets. "Okay fuck not the time. Jade. Jade was telling me you've been inactive from whatever that free messenger thing is you and your friends use? What the hell's up with that I thought those dweebs were your lifeblood." Now he raises an eyebrow. 

It's always been unnerving that you couldn't see his eyes, but at a time like this it's worse than usual. "I'm sorry I made you leave," you choke out without thinking, looking down and studying the ugly shag carpeting. 

"That's..." He stops himself. "Dave look at me."

Bro slowly reaches for your chin and grips it softly, turning your head to see his face, and suddenly his shades are gone and clipped to the front of his shirt. 

"You didn't make me leave," he says firmly and honestly. "That was my choice; I was running away from what I knew I'd have to deal with sooner or later. I thought I was doing what was best for you, but I was just being selfish." He pauses and you see the rims of his eyes turn a pinkish red. "You deserved better than me, hell you still do, but if this is what will make you happy you can have it. If you wanted the fuckin’ moon I'd give it to you, so I'm so sorry you're settlin' for just all of me."

You freeze. "Wait do you mean...?"

"I've loved you from the moment you crashed into that hipster record shop and I saw your bright red eyes, from the moment you picked up your first sword, from the moment you came home with a black eye in first grade and told me you could handle those little pricks that were beating on you for wearing a copycat pair of my shades, from the moments I'd put a blanket over you and take off your headphones that were blasting some of my own music in the middle of the night, from the moment your eyes lit up as you opened that damn giant box your turntables were in and you ran over to me in your footy pajamas with the biggest grin and gave me a bear hug, from the moment I caught you on the roof smoking and coughing so hard I'd figured you'd learned your lesson and when you didn't I stopped smoking for years just so you couldn't steal them from me, from the moment you broke your ankle in a strife and I had to carry you all the way to the fuckin hospital because I couldn't get us there on my bike and traffic was too jammed for a taxi and you were so happy to get one of those milkshakes they have in the cafeteria there you figured it was worth it, from the moment you were fourteen and said you wanted a puppy and by god those eyes you gave me I went right to the landlord and when he told me no I threatened him and got the cops called on me right in the lobby, from the moment you started crying when we were going down the highway because there was a bird with a hurt wing and I pulled over and we took her home and you took such fuckin good care of her and when we released her you cried again, from the moment I first heard you whisper my name with a whine through our thin as fuck walls," you feel your face start to heat up and he moves his hand up to caress your cheek with his thumb. "From the moment I heard you yell my name in the five a.m. light with me above you and your nails digging so hard into my back I knew there had to be at least a little blood under them," he steps closer, pulling his other hand out of his pocket to rest on your hip. "From the moment you screamed it while your scent drifted away from me and the warmth of your palms pressing into my chest and tears falling onto my face faded away into nothing." 

You cringe, remembering the time for what it really was. A memory. Not a dream, not a hallucination. It happened, and it haunted you that's for damn sure, but at least now you knew. You knew you weren't straight up off the handle. It'd still be good for you to talk this out with Bro later but for now, you were normal again. Whole. Tears prick at your tired eyes.

"Now don't give me that look, kid," he says gently. "I wasn't finished."

You give him a sort of half nod, waiting.

"From the moment I came back and held you for the first time in what felt like forever, felt your warmth and rifled my hands through your hair, squeezing you as close to me as I could get you before whisking you off to disappear for months because I was so scared you'd be taken away from me again..." His voice shifts lower, his eyes darting away.

"And when you didn't remember I was... dead all over again. That was it for me, you were all I had in my life and without you I felt alone. I knew you were right there in the other room, but it wouldn't of been fair of me to remind you. You'd already lost three years of your life that no one outside of the game could even remember, and you forgetting what happened before was a blessing."

You open your mouth to speak but he continues before you can manage a syllable.

"You could get back some of the time, spend it with friends, visit that buck toothed nerd you loved so much, and I could... I could wait. Hoping you'd remember what we had that wasn't just all the time I spent avoiding you because I couldn't deal with either of our bullshit hidden feelings and being disgusted with myself the whole time because you were happy again without me and who was I to want that taken away from you even if it meant I could be happy again too."

He sighs and gives you a sad smile. "I loved you, Dave. I love you now. I'm always going to love you, and if the only way you can be okay now is with me then... I'm ready to make even more moments together."

You move your arms from where they were hanging limply at your sides and wrap them around his middle and bury your face into his chest. He wraps his own around your upper back and rests his chin on the top of your head.

You inhale. 

"Dude that was so gay."

He laughs, loud and long and you feel it vibrate all the way down to your toes. You smile into his chest.

"Yeah well what did you expect from a guy that literally sells dong for a living." 

You can't see, but you know he's smiling too.

"I love you too you big fuckin’ dork."

"Language mister."

The two of you stand there holding each other for a long time, and when you pull apart it still doesn’t feel long enough. 

"So now you gonna tell me why you were ignoring your buddies?" He says slowly, like he doesn't want to ruin your matching small grins.

You grab his hand and open your door, leading him into your room to sit on the bed and begin to explain everything that's been going on with your mind since you got out of the game, tacking onto the end of it all the fucked up things you did to him while he was asleep which he then informed you he was very much awake for and you punched him in the shoulder and called him gross while you both laughed. When you manage to calm down, he goes a little somber.

"Shit, that's... why didn't you say anything?" Bro looks said when he says it.

"We were barely talking at the time. What was I supposed to say? Oh hey Bro so there's this thing where I think you're still dead sometimes and when I'm around you I see it all over again? I wasn't sure how'd you'd react." You look towards the sheets and he grabs your hand and holds it in his.

"You know I'd never... well I'm just glad you told me now. If it keeps happening, we can do whatever you need to make you feel better, if that's a therapist or a doctor, whatever, we'll do it."

You look back into his dark orange eyes and squeeze his hand lightly.

"Speaking of doing it..." You start with a grin.

"Holy shit please tell me you didn't just do that, did I teach you nothin'?" He laughs.

 "I was hoping you could teach me something right now," you lean closer to him and shift your legs so you're sitting on your knees.

"Oh my god, please stop." He's half bent over, abandoning the hand holding for rubbing his eyes.

"That's the opposite of what you'll be saying," you lean forward and whisper into his ear, resisting the urge to laugh along with him.

Almost instantaneously he's above you, legs planted on either side of your hips and gloved hands gripping your wrists with his mouth pressed against your jaw.

"I think you might have that switched."

You blink, shuddering an exhale. 

"That was... unexpected."

"I have a big libido."

"But you're like, forty."

"What the fuck I'm twenty-eight."

"Gross you're old get off."

He pushes himself up to look you in the eye. 

"How about we both get off?" 

"And you said mine were bad."

He pouts. "But Daaaaaave-"

"Don't but Dave me when your jacket smells like gasoline you loser." 

Bro groans and drops on top of you, knocking the breath right out of your lungs,

"And I thought I was an asshole."

"You are, now seriously get off," you wheeze out. 

"Can't, comfy," he snuggles his face into your neck.

"I'm going to suffocate." 

He sighs like it's the hardest thing he's ever had to do and rolls off of you to lay on his back. You take a deep breath and stare at the ceiling. 

"If we're going to do this you know we can't... tell anyone about it, right? I could probably go to jail."

"Way to kill the mood," you roll your eyes. "Rose knows." 

"When did you even have the time to-" 

"Don't worry about it."

"But-"

You roll onto your side and look at him. "Seriously shut up and kiss me."

He snickers, "What was that about me being super gay?" 

"Like you denied it," you scoff.

"Shoosh, only kisses now."

"Finally, took you long enou-"

Bro cuts you off with a kiss, feeling his warm lips against yours with the heat of the sun bearing down through the sheer curtains onto your freckled faces. You curled closer into him and after a while of sloppy making out you both drifted off wrapped in each other’s arms.

* * *

 

When you wake up, Bro’s not there. You feel yourself gasp and your heart constricts. Moonlight’s shining through the window and a cold breeze casually blows around you bringing shivers with it.

You scramble out of bed, scared, there are already tears in your eyes and you’re pretty sure you’re burning. Sprinting down the hall, you trip over yourself rounding the corner into the kitchen.

You smack straight into Bro’s back, smoke fills your lungs and you double over and start coughing.

“Yo.” He looks down at you, amused.

“Bro what the fuck.” You choke out, standing up and rubbing your eyes.

“I was just making dinner for us.” He shrugs before turning his back to you again.

His shades are still off and, wait what’s that? Holy shit he’s wearing an apron. An honest to god frilly white apron with little pink hearts on the trim and some text across the chest that says, “Kiss the s-senpai.” There’s no way that’s even a little bit ironic.

“Bro what the fuck,” you say again when you notice where the smoke’s coming from. “Please put the whole stove in the trash and order takeout. Please.”

He pouts, glancing over his shoulder at you. “But, but I worked really hard on this.”

You walk to his side and look at one of the burners. You’re pretty sure he opened a packet of ramen and set it in a frying pan and he’s just been staring at it. Okay no you’re positive that’s what he’s been doing.

You point at the pan, gag, then motion to the trash, and then to fridge where the twenty restaurant flyers were hung.

Bro rolls his eyes. “Fine, you didn’t deserve it anyway.” He drags his feet to the can with the abomination and drops the entire thing into it.

You cough again and walk around the apartment opening all the windows and thanking the lord you don’t have smoke detectors installed due to Bro’s habit of throwing a smoke bomb when he leaves the room. Or really his old habit. You sigh and lean against a windowsill in the living room.

He walks into the living room with four flyers and a pout still on his face. “Yo so which Chinese place you want? I could go for Yao Ming’s but The Jade Dragon has-“ He stops when he notices your expression. “Is somethin’ wrong?”

“I guess I’m just not hungry.” You rifle a hand through your hair, remembering you didn’t have your aviators either. You turn and stare out the window.

You hear him sigh faintly and step over to you, linking his arms around your middle.

“I thought I just told you you can tell me anything lil bro.”

You hesitate. “I dunno I just, woke up and thought you were gone? I mean… You aren’t going to leave me alone again, right?”

“Dave I’m not going anywhere, ever.” He murmurs.

You nod a little.

“Except right now ‘cause I’m gonna order this shit and go pick it up.” He takes his arms off of you and you turn to see his grin.

“I actually hate you smell ya later,” you brush past him to flop down on the futon.

“Love you too kid,” Bro gives you a wink and blows you the most anime kiss before heading back to the kitchen, presumably for the phone. Now that you think of it, both of your cells are probably dead. You figure you should pester at least Rose, but that means you’d have to get up to go use your computer and you just can’t seem to find the motivation.

A few hours later you’re sprawled on top of Bro while he flips through the channels and empty Chinese containers are all over the coffee table. After so long without any real contact with him, it’s hard to want to pull away at all. Thankfully he doesn’t seem to mind either.

He settles on Pokémon, and you both laugh and he gets a little red when Ash spouts his mouth off to Pikachu. Yeah, you told him _everything_ you remembered.

That night you settle down together in your bed, breathing each other's air with the proximity. You spend the time feeling, and holding, and whispering sweet nothings. He's warm, he's always been warm, and you curl into that heat with his arms around you and gently fall asleep with his forehead pressed into your neck. When you wake to the crows on the roof cawing and humid fog coming in through your open window, he's still there, and he shows you how much he loves you in the slowest way possible, rolling his hips languidly against yours while you grasp his shoulder blades so hard your fingertips go white and he presses his mouth to the underside of your jaw and you feel his stuble.

Your name is Dave Strider, and you've never felt happier.

* * *

 

The predawn light filters onto the two of you, barely illuminating his face. He's peaceful with his eyes closed and his breath is harsh against your cheek. His skin practically matches his eyes right now and you wonder how he manages to get more beautiful by the second. He sighs sweetly onto you when he finishes, and you hold him close to you and drift back off feeling alive for the first time in a long time.

Your name is Bro strider, and you've never felt more in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ive changed my mind on adding bonus chapters for them, i just want to cut this one loose and put it under my metaphorical writing belt to look back fondly on. 
> 
> i hope this was a satisfying ending tbh?? feel free to ask if something wasn't cleared up. happy holidays!!
> 
> EDIT: i started this originally when i was.. 16. almost 19 now and this was my first Real homestuck fic i ever wrote. thank u everyone that read it and supported me @ the time. it inspired me so much and even tho i look back now and know ive progressed in writing skills, i still love this thing bc of the ppl who read it. thank u all sm!


End file.
